The Sundial by Shirley Jackson Page B

taught bridge by a professional. My father believed that no expense should be spared on my education. Bridge, dancing, lessons in drawing and on the harp. Italian. Astronomy—”
    â€œFour spades,” said Julia in some haste.
    â€œJulia, pet, you interrupt Aunt Fanny.”
    â€œWhat does four spades mean?” Miss Ogilvie asked. “Essex, what does she mean by four spades?”
    Aunt Fanny went on. “I was only trying to explain that my education was not, as you sometimes seem to believe, wholly neglected. I was not, perhaps, a diligent student, but that implies no criticism of my father, whose only aim was to see me a cultivated, gracious woman.”
    â€œAnd
she
refused to believe him,” Maryjane said to Arabella, “because she had no faith, you know? And of course he
had
lied to her before, about adopting the child. And then the natives got cholera . . . cholera? Essex?”
    â€œPass,” said Mrs. Willow. “I have absolutely nothing at all,” she explained to Aunt Fanny.
    â€œTalking across the table,” said Miss Ogilvie roguishly. “Now, Mrs. Willow,
you
know better.”
    â€œI shall of course withdraw my bid,” Aunt Fanny said stiffly.
    â€œNot at all,” Miss Ogilvie said. “We wouldn’t
dream
—”
    â€œI was taught by a professional, Miss Ogilvie. If my partner reveals her hand, intentionally or unintentionally—”
    â€œEssex,” Miss Ogilvie said, “what shall I do? Julia has bid four spades, and Aunt Fanny has withdrawn her bid, so what shall
I
do?”
    â€œâ€”and of course he had to inject the stuff into himself first, to
show
them, and he didn’t know his wife had—”
    â€œFive hearts, then, I guess.”
    â€œThat was Aunt Fanny’s suit, Miss Ogilvie.”
    â€œOh, dear.” Miss Ogilvie consulted her hand. “I guess I didn’t mean hearts, anyway. I’m sorry, everybody. I
did
mean diamonds.”
    â€œFive diamonds?” Julia asked.
    â€œI stand corrected,” Aunt Fanny said. “I was under the impression that one’s first bid was of the suit one intended. I am happy to know that I have been wrong all these years, and so, of course, was the professional teacher from whom I learned. I have not, of course, kept up with the newer rules, so I am now aware of a kind of bid I had always thought illegal.”
    â€œâ€”and the chief’s little son, the apple of his eye, and really the
cutest
little fellow, even though he was—”
    â€œEssex?” said Miss Ogilvie helplessly.
    â€œSix no trump,” Julia said.
    Aunt Fanny folded her cards and put them in the center of the table. “If we should ever play bridge again,” she said, “will you, Essex, see that we have clean cards? I had not passed, Julia; you had no authority to bid.” She turned her chair away from the table and, awkwardly, the others set down their cards. “Essex,” said Aunt Fanny, “have our guests been offered drinks? Cigars?”
    â€œMrs. Willow,” said Essex gravely, “will you have a cigar?”
    â€œâ€”and then, of course, all the other natives, and I wish you could have seen it; he was so tall and dignified, and yet he was so happy, too, and in spite of his wife—”
    â€œI
will
have a drink, however,” Mrs. Willow said.
    â€œâ€”and
she
died, although actually in real life they are
still
happily—”
    Julia gathered up the cards and laid out a game of solitaire; she began to whistle softly.
    â€œConsider,” said Essex, “consider—you drink straight Scotch, Mrs. Willow?—consider our several methods of estimating reality. We are, not to put too fine a point on it, gathered here waiting, and yet we have no way to prepare; this is not real, what we are doing now—we have no function, beyond waiting.”
    â€œA pleasant way to wait,” Mrs. Willow said,